


A Demon Among Us

by SammyWinchester



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Angst and Fluff and Smut, BAMF Sam, Bondage, Brotherly Angst, Caring Sam, Castiel & Sam Winchester Friendship, Castiel Loves Dean Winchester, Dean Being an Asshole, Demon Dean, Demon Dean Winchester, Destiel - Freeform, Eventual Smut, Falling In Love, Graphic Torture, Hurt Castiel, Hurt No Comfort, M/M, Non-Consensual, Oblivious Dean, Past Castiel/Dean Winchester, Sam Ships It, Sam is a Sweetheart, Smut, Sorry Not Sorry, Team Free Will, Tortured Castiel, Upset Castiel, Wing Kink, Wingfic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-23
Updated: 2016-11-07
Packaged: 2018-07-26 05:05:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7561561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SammyWinchester/pseuds/SammyWinchester
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel gets captured by demon Dean, who seems to be holding quite the grudge against the fallen angel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Inner Demons

The smell of burning holy oil pulled Castiel from his unconscious state, blinking against the blackness before his eyes, trying to shake the fog from his brain. He groaned as his senses slowly returned and a steady throbbing in his head made him wince. He caught brief whiffs of leather, the sweet smell of freshly turned earth and something like wet wood. The last thing he remembered was talking to Sam on the phone, he’d been in the parking lot of a bar he’d just exited after questioning them if they’d seen a certain hunter recently. Sam and him had been searching for Dean since he’d disappeared from his bunker room five weeks ago.

The whole situation smelled rotten, Sam insisted his brother had been dead when he’d carried his body into his room and set him on the bed. Well dead people don’t just disappear into thin air.

But here they were, hunting for a supposed dead guy. What had happened in the parking lot? Try as he might, Castiel couldn’t recall. He didn’t remember ending the phone call with Sam. And now he was here. Wherever here happened to be.

A rough surface rubbed against his bare back as Castiel tried to move, and his shoulders and wrists ached. He quickly realized even without the luxury of sight he was naked form the waist up. Cautiously, Castiel tried to pull his arms inward to relief the discomfort but found both arms stretched out and above his head, held in place by cold, hard metal that just barely cut into the skin of his wrists.

Castiel struggled against the cruel bonds as he tried to move his feet, realizing he was upright and his legs were also spread, though not uncomfortably so, and he felt shackles around his ankles, preventing him from doing little more than shoving his feet against the cold floor to relief some of the stress on his shoulders and wrists. Someone had chained him to a wall, he realized with growing unease.

Every fiber of his being felt weak, like even breathing would be too much effort. He felt even weaker than he already been feeling for weeks with his grace fading more each day. Apparently his capture knew how to use sigils to weaken angels. Castiel turned his head at the sound of footsteps off to his left, he still couldn’t see anything but a dim light and a fuzzy shadow and he became aware of a soft pressure around his head. He’d been blindfolded with what seemed to be a handkerchief.

“Well, look who decided to join the party.” The voice sent a shudder of relief down Castiel’s spine for more reasons than one.

“Dean?” Castiel choked out, hating how pathetic his voice sounded even to his own ears. He could barely believe his good fortune.

“Yes, Angel. It’s me.” Dean said coldly, his voice floating towards Castiel from somewhere to the left. Some of the earlier relief drained away, replaced with an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach. Dean sounded different, he couldn’t quite put his finger on it but there was a certain apathy to the hunter’s tone that Castiel had never heard before.

Turning his head towards Dean’s voice, Castiel frowned, wishing the blindfold was gone so he could see the other man’s face, but his stolen grace had faded to the point that even a simple gesture like that proved too much effort. “It’s good to hear your voice. Sam and I have been looking everywhere for you. Your brother is sick with worry.” _And so was I._ he thought, but didn’t say it out loud.

A mildly amused chuckle filled the silence and Castiel felt a cool hand running up his bare side, making him shudder despite himself.

“I know.” Dean stated, sounding a bit bored by the whole thing. “I’ve been watching you both.”

Castiel’s frown deepened. He’d been watching them? “Then you know Sam’s upset at your disappearance, why haven’t you at least let him know you’re okay?”

Fingers trailed lightly over Castiel’s bare chest, making him shiver a bit as familiar feelings stirred within him. It had been a while, before Sam had started the Trials, but Dean and Castiel had been intimate a few times. Mostly it had been a rushed blur of lust, hot kisses, quick releases and nothing spoken between them afterwards. Both seemed to acknowledge it as little more than a stress relief, a needed break from the endless mess that was their existence. Yet Castiel always enjoyed their time together and Dean’s hand felt good against his skin. A comfort he seldom received.

“I’ve been busy doing my own thing.” Dean replied casually.

“I admit at times to needing some space, but you've been gone for weeks. You should’ve at least called.” Castiel wanted to say more but couldn’t figure out how to say it, and couldn't shake the feeling something was very wrong with this whole situation. That didn’t sound like Dean at all. Since when did he allow his brother’s suffering when he had the power to stop it?

“You two always slowed me down. It’s freeing to finally get away from your constant problems and Sam’s bitching.”

A groan escaped Castiel’s mouth as he shifted uncomfortably, his shoulders burned from being held in the unnatural too long and he still couldn’t remember how he’d ended up like this in the first place. He felt more confused and unsettled the more Dean talked, something wasn’t right

"You don't mean that." Castiel told him, cursing his dulling senses that knew something evil hovered nearby but couldn't determine what it might be.

Another hand reached up and stroked Castiel's neck gently. "I mean every word, my dear Castiel."

"Well, un-cuff me and we can talk about it. This is getting… uncomfortable.” Castiel coughed, the movement causing the shackles to rub painfully on his raw wrists.

“I could.” Dean’s hand brushed against Castiel’s cheek gently as he spoke. “But I’m rather enjoying this.”

“What?” Castiel sputtered in surprise. Enjoying what? His friend tied helpless to the wall? Dean hadn’t shown any interest in bondage before but now he sounded aroused, like he had no intention of letting Castiel go. Kinks were fine and all, but surely he would at least ask first? And they needed to leave before whoever had knocked him unconscious came back.

“Dean, this hurts…” Castiel trailed off, surely he would un-cuff him now?

“Awe, what’s wrong, Cas? Don’t like not having control? Don't like being at the mercy of someone else?"

Something akin to embarrassment caused Castiel’s cheeks to flush at Dean's teasing. Why was he doing this? “Whoever captured me could return at any moment, and I’d rather not be half naked and chained to the wall when they do.”

“You don’t need to worry about that, Angel.” He felt Dean’s hand grip his arm roughly, the contact burned slightly, like the touch of someone tainted would. Castiel flinched, wanting to pull away but he was powerless. The grace inside just barely keeping him alive at this point, and the angel sigils made his head hurt and legs feel like jelly.

“What are you doing, Dean?”

“Just having some fun with my favorite pet.” Dean’s warm breath fluttered across Castiel’s ear, making the angel shudder. Dean was using the same demeaning speech Castiel had used when he’d been power tripping with all the souls from purgatory inside him.

“Dean, please. We need to go, now.”

“You’re so weak, so helpless.” The hunter ignored Castiel’s concerns, trailing his fingers along the angel’s shoulder, down his back – and brushing against something that had Castiel’s breath hitching in his throat as sudden panic made his heart race. He gasped as Dean paused, before gliding his hand along the arch of Castiel’s left wing, applying firm, steady pressure.

“Oh!” Castiel murmured as a wave of electric pleasure jolted through his whole body, his breathy voice a mixture of fear and contentment. He tried to flap his wings but found them stretched out and bound to the wall just like the rest of him. How he hadn’t noticed his wings were physically manifested before was beyond him. He’d never shown any human his wings, never had them touched, and never felt so vulnerable in his whole life.

Secretly, he’d become fairly attached to Dean and had considered asking him if he’d mind the addition of wings during sex now and then. Yet he’d always been too scared of opening up to anyone like that, too afraid to reveal his true self; the hunter might not like what he saw. Plus the reasoning behind such insane desires wasn’t something he could handle delving into now, maybe ever.

“You like that, don’t you?” Dean snorted, his voice overly sweet as he buried his hand into the soft feathers lining the underside of Castiel’s wing. The angel stiffened, his wings ruffling against the restraints, it felt amazing, actually; but he wasn’t enjoying it. Not like he would be if circumstances had been different.

“It… it feels really good, but…” _But I feel like you’re molesting me and I’m scared._ No way any of that was getting said out loud but at this point he had to admit; it pretty much summed it all up.

“But what, Cas?” Dean whispered in his ear, his free hand wrapped around the angel’s waist, pulling him flush against his solid chest. It should have been hot, an intimate gesture that made Castiel shiver in bliss. But instead he recoiled inwardly, feeling his skin tingle in a bad way everywhere Dean’s body made contact with his.

“Dean, please let me go.” Castiel’s voice shook slightly with exhaustion and anxiety, his breath came out in labored pants as he struggled to break free, he found his growing helplessness frustrating and a bit frightening.

A warm tingling sensation ran through Castiel, pooling in his lower region as Dean’s fingers massaged the powerful muscles where his wing attached to his vessel’s back. He bit his lip to hold back a moan.

“P-please, stop.” Castiel pleaded, jerking the chains above his head holding his arms painfully high. His shoulders and back screamed in protest, Castiel now realized part of that was due to the unfamiliar weight his wings put on his vessel. Human bodies weren’t meant to support such mass. “I don’t like this.”

“You sure about that, _Castiel.”_ Dean spat out his name like he would when uttering the name of a distasteful enemy. A hand traveled lower, between his legs, tracing the outline of his member. Dean hadn’t touched him there in months; he’d craved it so bad, had thought several times about bringing it up to the hunter but had never worked up the nerve. The desires had been almost unbearable during his time as a human so he’d had sex with April, which had helped but even that seemed a distant memory.

Wordlessly, Castiel nodded once. _Of course I’m sure_ … in spite of how much he wanted Dean this wasn’t what he’d had in mind.

Dean didn’t seem to notice or care that his friend found this much less appealing than he did. Castiel felt strangely dirty when Dean’s hand grabbed his cock through his pants. He’d always welcomed the hunter’s touch previously but this felt invasive. He’d asked Dean to stop but his requested had been ignored, like Dean didn’t care about his feelings in the matter.

"I'm willing to discuss doing this, if you're into it. But not here, not like this." Truly Castiel had never thought of doing something like this with anyone, however, he wasn't opposed to the idea of being tied up in general. But not like this, and not with his wings stretched out and exposed. His wings were a part of his true form, personal, and having them in this plane of existence made him feel more vulnerable than anything he could do with his vessel. The desire to pull them tight against his body and protect them overwhelmed his mind.

"Yeah right!" Dean mocked, rubbing Castiel through the fabric of his pants none too gently. Castiel thrashed his wings useless, trying to dislodge Dean's hand still resting there. "You were a selfish lover at best, only cared about yourself. Worst sex I ever had."

"I tried my best." Castiel replied softly, attempting to the keep hurt from his voice. Dean’s words did more damage to his heart than they should have. "You were my first, I know I lacked experience but-."

"Save it." Dean interrupted him. "You've only ever used me for your own personal gain. To get your rocks off or get me to help you with your stupid problems, problems you create more times than not."

"That's not true." Castiel insisted defiantly. "Why are you doing this to me?" _I... I love you._ He thought silently, he’d never told Dean that, barely admitted it to himself, but he knew that’s what his intense feelings meant. Love made him want to protect Dean, spend every second of the day with him, do anything in his power just to make him laugh, drove him to keep looking for him for weeks. Only love made you care more about another person than yourself, Castiel wasn’t stupid. Dean's betrayal cut deeper than any knife ever could.

"You hurt my brother, you played me, you helped Metatron trap all the angels down here. Did you really think I was just going to let all that go?" Dean carded his fingers through Castiel's feathers. The angel bit his lip to stop the whimper from escaping but he couldn't control the nervous twitch at the contact. Everything in him screamed at him to fold his wings tight and hide them from this world, but the shackles held them in place, something else keeping them bond to this space of realty.

"I don't feel well, my grace is fading and my wings..." Castiel lower his voice to a soft whisper. "Dean, please release my wings."

Dean laughed, a cruel uncaring laugh that made Castiel's heart sink. This wasn't his Dean, the Dean he knew would never force himself on anyone, would never leave them tied up for his own enjoyment.

"That's not going to happen, Cas. I spent too long figuring out how to get your wings into this plane of existence to let you spoil all my fun again."

"I don't know what's happened to you, but this isn't the real you. You need to fight this." Castiel coughed again, tensing against the pain.

"Oh this is the real me, the unhindered, all cards out on the table, finally doing things for myself, me."

"You don't have to do this." Castiel's voice was even more gravely than normal.

"I know, I want to do this." Suddenly Dean pressed his warm body against Castiel's, grinding their hips together as the hunter bit down into Castiel's neck, nipping his sensitive skin. He felt hands on both his wings now, rubbing along the ridge, tugging roughly on his flight feathers.

"Mmm, Dean..." Castiel sagged against the solid form of the other man, his head dipping forward, unable to hold his own weight as his body betrayed him. Despite his anxiety and confusion his cock hardened at the raw feeling of pleasure any contact with his wings provided him; they were definitely a weak spot for him. Well, they were when Dean’s hands were the ones touching them.

Catching the angel easily, Dean shoved a knee between Castiel's legs, pressing him hard against the wall, still peppering his neck with hot kisses. He moved up and breathed warm air over Castiel's ear, and he caressed the soft hair on the angel's head, making him to shudder.

"Shhh, relax, Cas. I got you." Dean muttered, his voice sounded soft yet it did little to assure the angel, it only served to make him feel all the more violated.

Castiel struggled to get his feet under him and ease the strain on his upper body, but his legs felt too weak. This all felt like a bad dream, like the ones he'd had while human, perhaps he was dreaming right now, the less grace he had left the deeper his meditation become, he could have sworn he'd fallen asleep last time.

"I can't do this, I'm so tired. Let me go." Castiel tried desperately to get through, hoping his friend was still in there somewhere and would snap out of this. He would forgive Dean of course, and they could go back to the way things were. "Untie me, Dean."

"It's all about you, isn't it?" Dean snickered. "That's why I tied you up, you stupid Angel. You owe me." He dug his hands into the wings stretched out before him, quivering beneath his touch. Dean continued to squeeze until his nails broke the skin, making Castiel jerk in surprise as he felt warm liquid drip down his feathers.

“Ugh.” He gasped, his wings fluttering involuntarily. “You’re hurting me.”

"You're pathetic,” Dean didn’t let up his unnaturally strong grip. “Barely even an angel anymore."

Castiel felt tears prick at the back of his eyes. What could have happened to the hunter while he'd been gone to change him so much? As much as he knew this wasn't really Dean, couldn't be him, the words hurt, and the forced groping made him feel like nothing but a piece of meat. There was truth in the accusations that drove them home. He was hardly an angel anymore, certainly not the strong, holy one he'd been when he'd first laid hands on Dean and pulled him from hell.

"Nothing to say for yourself?" Dean questioned, digging his nails into Castiel's side before hooking a finger in the angel's pants, slowly unbuckling the buckle, pulling his pants down and letting them fall around his ankles. Strong hands stroked him through the fabric of his boxers until his breath hitched and he couldn't stop from wiggling.

“Well?”

Castiel clenched his fists but remained silent, ignoring the lurch in his stomach when Dean went back to stroking his wing, it took everything he had not to flinch.

"How you like this now?" Dean gripped a feather and rolled it between his finger and thumb. Castiel squeezed his eyes shut as a tear slide down his cheek, still not uttering a sound.

"I asked your stupid feathery ass a question." Dean growled, pressing something cold and sharp against Castiel's throat. "Don't make me hurt you."

"You're... sick." Castiel choked out. "Let me and Sam help you."

"Wrong answer."

Castiel cried out, curling in on himself as much as possible, when Dean jammed his knee into his crotch, sending pain lancing through his whole body. Castiel gagged, trying to close his legs to protect himself, but the shackles prevented the movement. He'd never been kicked in the balls before but quickly decided it hurt far worse than a lot of other things he'd endured.

"I told you not to make me hurt you." Dean said with mock remorse.

Still catching his breath, Castiel let his arms support his weight, hating how heavily he was leaning on Dean but unable to get his legs to work right. He didn't reply, seeing no point, whatever had taken Dean over didn't give two shits about the angel or his brother.

The next time Dean's knee thrust into his balls, Castiel couldn't hold back the blood curdling scream of agony torn from his dry throat.

"D'n... p-please." Castiel stammered weakly when he regained his voice, still half delirious from the pain. "Just kill me."

"I'm going to." Dean sliced a shallow cut across the angel's neck. Castiel hissed softly, flinching as memories of Metatron stealing his grace ended his mind. "Just not right now."

Dean carved into the flesh of his chest and ribs while Castiel squirmed miserably; he gasped once when Dean moved the blade to his face but otherwise kept silent. Deep down he felt like maybe he deserved this, after everything he'd failed to do right, perhaps this was his punishment. God’s way of bringing karma back around to bite him in the ass. He only wished it hadn’t been Dean doing these things to him. Having one of the people he cared about the most hurting him mentality screwed with his mind like no monster ever could.

When Dean started cutting some sort of pattern on his stomach Castiel arched his back, muscles tense, pulse pounding in his skull. It stung bad, but nothing he couldn’t handle. Time seemed to slow and his whole world narrowed to the unthinkable reality. _Dean_ was _torturing_ him. The feeling of warm blood trailing down his body made him queasy, he bit his lower lip until he tasted iron on his tongue.

“Not so high and mighty now, are you?” the warm pressure of Dean’s body vanished and Castiel wondered briefly if Dean was going to leave; until he felt the point of what was definitely an angel blade resting lightly on his right wing. An unavoidable whimper emanated from his partly open lips.

“No, no… don’t.” Castiel begged fearfully.

The pressure receded and Castiel sighed shakily with relief; until Dean reached up and pulled away the blindfold and Castiel got a real look at the hunter for the first time. The reality he faced was far worse than he’d imagined.

“Dean…” he muttered in disbelief. Wishing his eyes were playing a cruel trick on him but knowing they weren't. “You’re… a demon.”

“That I am.” Dean grinned evilly, flicking his eyes black for a moment, enjoying the angel’s shock. He shook his head as if to acknowledge the horror of it all. “And as a demon, I hate angels.”

“How did this happen?” Castiel questioned in a strained, deep voice.

With a half smile that held no warmth or happiness, Dean tossed the angel blade from hand to hand, walking back and forth as his lust filled eyes ran up the length of Castiel’s body.

“Why are your wings black?” Dean asked, ignoring the angel’s question. He smirked smugly as Castiel stiffened slightly. He waited a moment before continuing, reaching a hand out to caress the messy feathers around the crest of the right wing. “Because from what I’ve read, and in my experience, angel feathers are white.”

Castiel turned his head away shamefully, not meeting Dean’s glaring gaze. _Because I rebelled against Heaven._ “All angels have different colored wings.” He mumbled through gritted teeth.

“Yeah, Cas… I’m not buying it.” Dean cupped both his hands to Castiel’s face and forced the angel to look at him, letting the cold metal of the blade press against his cheek. “Tell me the truth.”

“I am.” He said flatly, not letting his voice betray his emotions as he glared defiantly into Dean’s dead eyes.

“Okay, we can do this the hard way.” Dean walked over to Castiel’s right wing again and gripped one of the larger feathers by the base, tugging roughly. “Hm?”

Castiel said nothing, hanging his head, preparing himself for what he knew was coming next. He barely flinched when Dean ripped the feather out, but his breath hitched a little. He tried to escape deep within himself, and ignore the burning desire to protect his exposed wings. He couldn’t do a damn thing.

“You’re starting to piss me off, Castiel.” Dean growled, plucking out more feathers until there was an obvious gap in the plumage and thick, red blood oozed from the wounds, pooling on the dirt beneath.

The pain made Castiel’s eyes water and he moaned, gripping the chains holding his arms above his head until his knuckles where white, arching his back off the wall. He choked back a heartbroken sob as Dean threw the damaged feathers in his face.

“You’re wings are ugly, not even a nice black. They’re boring, just like you.” Somehow Dean knew just how to hit him where it hurt the worst.

 _He’s right._ Castiel thought, feeling his cheeks burn hot with shame. His wings flittered nervously; he wanted so badly to hide them. They were no longer beautiful like they'd once been.

Apparently getting bored, Dean gripped Castiel’s dark hair and jerked his head back. The hunter glared, jaw clenched in hatred. The angel’s eyelids were half shut and he let Dean yank his head around like a rag doll. All the blood lost and pain putting his abused body into shock. “If you don’t start talking I’m going to start cutting.” He placed the angel blade against the base of Castiel’s right wing. Castiel sucked in a sharp breath, fear flicking in his blue eyes.

"Why do you have black wings?"

“Why do you care?” Castiel ground out, earning himself a smack across his face.

“Just tell me you piece of shit!” Dean yelled, slamming Castiel’s head against the hard wall multiple times, until he was seeing stars and the dim room spun around him so fast he had to close his eyes. He felt super dizzy and detached from reality.

“I… um… ‘couse…” Castiel slurred, his brain wouldn’t put together what he was trying to say. Probably because he’d gotten a concussion. “’Couse… ugh, y-you…”

“What?” Dean leaned in closer. “I can’t understand you, Cas.”

“I… I… wuv… hmm.” Castiel giggled like a little girl, looking up at Dean with defeat. “Don’t… kn’w.”

“You’re lying, Cas.”

“I’m… I can’t…I… don’t ‘urt… me.” Castiel pleaded, not even comprehending the gibberish coming out of his mouth. He just wanted this stop. Did he just beg like a dog to a demon? What kind of angel did that?

“Dean!” a shocked voice exclaimed from somewhere in the room.

 _Sam!_ Castiel scanned the room as best he could with his blurry vision as Dean looked up in surprise. He stepped back from the angel slightly, obviously also recognizing his little brother’s voice. Sam needed to know his brother had turned into a demon before he ended up getting the same treatment.

“Hiya, Sammy.” The older Winchester spun on his heels to face his brother standing no matter than ten feet away. He smiled, angel blade still held up, ready to kill whoever got close enough.

“Dean, what are you doing?” Sam sounded dumbfounded.

Pausing momentarily, Dean narrowed his eyes, as if he couldn’t decide what to do. “Just living life, what are you doing?”

Castiel felt both relieved and hurt that demon Dean didn’t seem to harbor the same hatred towards his brother as he did towards him. Maybe, deep down, he actually felt that way, and now that all inhibitions had been removed he was acting on it. Castiel tried to tell Sam to go, but his tongue suddenly wouldn’t cooperate.

Reaching for his knife with his good hand, Sam took a slow step forward, eyes leaving Dean only for a mere second to glance in the angel’s direction. “Why are you hurting, Cas?” he asked calmly, though he appeared tense, ready to jump into attack at any moment.

“I’m not hurting him.” Dean replied easily, holding up his hands as if in defeat. “I just got here. Someone else is obviously pissed at him, I was just about to un-cuff him.”

Sam’s face fell as his eyes darted between his brother and Castiel. “I saw you beating his head against the wall.” He told Dean, shaking his head slightly, eyes begging the older Winchester to tell him it was all a big misunderstanding.

“Yeah… well.” Dean grinned sheepishly as he inched towards Sam. “I can explain.”

“Okay.” Sam agreed slowly, lowering his weapon a bit.

“Stay… back.” Castiel finally managed to warn in a raspy voice. “D’n’s…. demon.”

“What?” shock filled Sam’s voice and he frowned at Castiel, who did little more than glance worriedly at Dean’s back.

Sam barely had time to react when his brother lunged at him, knocking him back. Holding the knife out without conviction, Sam staggered backwards until Dean had him pinned against the far wall. But to both Castiel’s and Sam’s surprise, Dean didn’t follow up. He stood his ground but made no farther move to hurt Sam.

“This doesn’t concern you, Sam. Just walk away and I’ll leave you alone.” Dean’s voice sounded almost pleading.

“That’s not true, you’re my brother, and this most definitely concerns me. I've been tearing the place up looking for you. Come back to the bunker with me, I can help you.”

Dean snorted softly through his nose. “I don’t want your help. I don’t want you, just go away.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“Didn’t you hear, Cas? I’m a demon, which means I don’t want or need you two anymore. I’m having the time of my life doing whatever I want, and not feeling guilty about it.”

An expression that could only be sorrow darkened Sam’s features, he appeared at a lost as he lowered the knife to his side. Castiel tensed, adrenaline giving him the strength to hold his head up. He worried Dean would take the chance to harm Sam, yet he didn’t. Perhaps he too had mixed feelings about the situation.

“So, living the dream for you is.. is beating up your friend?” Sam nodded at Castiel, his voice soft and pleading. “Come on, Dean, that’s not you.

Dean shrugged. “It is now, Sammy. And if you don’t want to be next I suggest you make like a tree and leave.”

“I can’t, Dean.” Castiel had to strain his ears to hear Sam’s gentle reply, he could tell the younger Winchester was more shaken up than he wanted to let on. “You’re all I got, and I’m not leaving you. And I can’t let you torture Cas, man, he’s our friend, he doesn’t deserve that.”

Visually bristling at the mention of the angel, Dean sneered. “Cas? Sam, Cas is a selfish, good-for-nothing dick, he’s not my friend. He’s nothing to me.”

“Hey, relax, okay?” Sam had an amazing ability to go with the flow of whatever crap life handed him, Castiel realized, feeling a spark of hope flicker in his chest. Maybe the younger Winchester could get through to Dean after all. He no longer cared what happened to him, he just wanted Dean to be happy and as long as he had Sam by his side he would be.

With a sigh, Castiel let his head loll forward, wincing at all the blood, his blood, pudding around his feet. There appeared to be a lot, thick and almost black in the dim light. A few dull black feathers broke up the endless sea of red, he smiled bitterly. It had been a stupid notion ever falling for a human in the first place, and thinking Dean might actually reciprocate his feelings even more foolish. Dean had Sam, and Sam was the only one he ever softened up towards, the two were inseparable, Castiel would only get in their way.

“What kind of brother are you anyway? Siding with an angel over you own flesh and blood?”

“I’m not siding with him.” Sam said carefully. “Look. We know how to cure demons now, and I’m not about to give up on you. Please, come back with me. You’re my brother, and I need you.” Sam had most likely given Dean his best puppy eyes at the end.

“Come on, man. Home? We don’t have a home and our lives are a joke, nothing but one miserable failure after another. Well I’m done, I like not feelings anything.” Dean sounded cocky and slightly more irritated.

“Dean, please.”

“Last chance, Sammy."

Silence filled the air for several all moments.

Then the hasty pounding of footsteps, the sound of splashing water, a hiss of pain, the dull thud of a solid body hitting the wall and a soft moan. There was a jarring crash as a stack of empty crates got knocked to the floor. The muffled sounds of two men wrestling it out from the ground most likely, and another thud as a body slumped ungracefully against the wood floorboards. Another soft groan and the quick panting of labored breaths the only thing that could be heard.

The next thing Castiel knew a gentle hand rested itself on his shoulder. He flinched, a barely audible whimper spilling from his mouth, unsure who was touching him.

"Shh, it's okay." a voice soothed, lightly squeezing his shoulder.

Relief flooded the remains of Castiel's senses. "Sam?" He croaked, trying to lift his head to face the younger Winchester.

"Yeah, Cas, it's me." Sam's voice was strained yet filled with compassion. "It's going to be okay." He mumbled again, as if more to himself than Castiel. Finding out your brother had turned into a demon couldn’t be easy.

The pressure left Castiel’s shoulder and a callused hand cupped his left cheek, careful not to brush against the cuts, gently lifting his head up. Sam’s eyes were filled with concern and somewhere, shoved down out of necessity, a mountain of pain. A gash above his right eye bled sluggishly, red blood tickling down the side of his face.

“D’n?”

“I took care of him.” Sam replied gruffly, eyebrows pinched together and lips pressed in a thin line.

Castiel tried to thank Sam, tried to tell him how sorry he was that all this had happened, that Dean was a _demon_ , that he’d had to fight his own brother because Castiel hadn’t been smart enough to keep himself from getting captured. But all he managed to force pass his dry lips sounded like a whining moan.

“Don’t talk,” Sam commanded gently. “I’m going to untie you, okay?” he spoke as if the angel were a caged animal scared out of its mind. Perhaps that wasn’t far from the truth. Castiel nodded numbly as Sam released his hold and without hesitation, knelt in the puddle of blood to pick the locks around the angel’s ankles. The younger Winchester had the shackles off in no time, finally allowing Castiel to more easily support his weight.

Sam’s hand once again rested on his shoulder, as if to warn him of his whereabouts. Castiel turned and gave the hunter and lopsided smile to assure the other man he really would be fine. He wasn’t a porcelain doll for goodness sakes! Still, Castiel had to admit he appreciated the consideration, undeserved as it was.

Sudden panic jolted through Castiel’s chest when Sam reached his hand out to steady the angel’s wing as he worked on unlocking the metal bar pinning the appendage to the wall.

“D-Don’t.” he stammered weakly. Sam turned to look at him with a puzzled expression, his hand hovering mere inches from the feathers.

“I’ll be gentle, I promise.” Sam waited for permission, eyes never leaving Castiel’s face, his features tight from worry and exhaustion. Swallowing hard, Castiel nodded slightly, not trusting his voice.

To Castiel’s surprise and utter relief, Sam’s hand was gentle, comforting, soothing, like the caress a mother would give the back of her crying child. He sighed heavily, letting go of the breath he just know realized he’d been holding. He heard a faint click and felt his wing fall free of its bonds, he let it sag unceremoniously to the floor, feathers brushing the drying blood. Sam soon had his other wing free and Castiel pulled them flat against his body, ruffling them slightly. He felt insanely better just having them close. He heard Sam let out a soft gasp as a rush of energy filled the air and the wings disappeared from view.

“Okay, last ones.” Sam mumbled, reaching easily over the angel’s head to play with the locks around his wrists.

The second the shackles opened Castiel’s arms fell limply to his sides and he slumped against Sam’s chest, letting out muffled cry from the pain.

“Whoa, whoa! Easy, Cas. I got you. You’re okay.” Sam muttered reassuringly as he caught the angel by trapping him between the wall and his body. He struggled for a moment to hold them both upright as he awkwardly shifted Castiel over to his good arm.

“I’m… sorry.” Castiel whispered in raspy voice, clinging to Sam’s jacket with one hand as the hunter jostled him around before getting a firm hold. He hated how helpless he’d become. How could anyone still want him around? He was useless; he had no powers left, and he wasn’t a strong hunter like Sam or Dean.

“You don’t need to be sorry. You didn’t do nothing wrong, how could you have known Dean was a demon?” Sam slung Castiel left arm over his shoulder, wincing as the shorter man groaned in pain. “Sorry, I can’t carry you very well with my arm in a sling. Can you walk with support?”

“Yes.” With that Castiel tried to take a step, but bile instantly rose in the back of his throat and dizziness threatened to overcome him. His legs buckled and he pitched forward, nearly pulling both men to the floor. Sam grunted under the sudden weight, but succeeded in heaving Castiel upright again and cradling his friend to his side.

“Take it easy, let me lead, you’ve lost a lot of blood.”

Cursing his weakness Castiel had no choice but to let Sam half drag half carry him towards the door. He tripped twice more, each time Sam miraculously managed to keep them both standing and moving more or less the right way. Sam kept mumbling assurances that Castiel clung to for dear life, the soft voice the only thing keeping him grounded to consciousness.

Even so, the third time his knees buckled Castiel fell into the merciful void.


	2. Sam Takes Charge

"Cas?" Feeling the angel in his grip go limp, Sam dropped to his knees to keep from losing his grip on the suddenly much heavier body. Shifting positions again to better support his injured friend, Sam leaned down enough to feel Cas' warm breath brush against his face. Good, so at least Cas was still alive. But still, carrying another full grown man proved difficult with only one arm.

"Hey!" Sam lightly shook Cas, glancing at his face. Even in the dim light and with blood covering a good portion, he could see Cas' skin had turned much too pale. The angel didn't respond, didn't even moan, his breath was ragged and pulse much too quick, Sam noted with a quick wrist check. Carefully he moved Cas so his head was cradled against his neck, effectively supporting the angel's weight so he wouldn't slip out of Sam's grip while he walked.

Chancing a glance at his brother, who thankfully still lay unconscious on the floor where he'd left him, Sam returned his entire focus to getting Cas out to the car. He wondered briefly if the demon inside his brother was even Dean, and if so how that could be possible. Yet as hard as accepting the realty was, Sam couldn't deny that is seemed Dean really had become a demon. He really wished Cas would wake up and confirm the obvious so he could stop clinging to false hope.

Luckily Dean had left the keys in the Impala he'd parked just outside the old warehouse he'd drug the angel to. Leaving his baby unattended and unlocked wasn't like Dean; but then again, neither was torturing people, let alone one of his best friends.

Their progress went painfully slow, and Sam couldn't shake the mounting anxiety that any moment Dean could woke up and he was woefully unprepared to deal with the consequences.

Finally making it to the Impala without incident, Sam was faced with the difficult and somewhat awkward task of getting a bleeding, unconscious, mostly naked angel into the back seat. Cas had lost a good amount of blood and it appeared the wounds weren't even slowing their flow. He really needed a hospital, but that just wasn't going to happen in time and Sam knew it. He'd have to stitch him up the best he could and hope Cas pulled through.

Sam had to climb in the backseat and drag Cas on top of himself to get him in the back seat of the car, good thing Cas was oblivious or things would have been way more weird. Sam accomplished the feat without injuring the angel any further. Pausing to catch his breath, Cas still sprawled out on his lap, Sam put his fingers against the other man's neck, relieved to feel a strong pulse, even if it was much too fast.

He leaned his head against the window, eyes scanning the empty parking lot, lit by only a couple streetlamps. Apparently Dean had come alone, one small thing to be happy for is this otherwise shitty situation.

"Hang in there, Cas." Sam muttered, wiggling out from under his weight as he gingerly felt along Cas' torso to assess the damage. There were several deep cuts that seemed to form a symbol on his stomach but Sam couldn't quite make out what it was amongst all the blood.

Assured that nothing felt life threatening on its own, Sam grabbed a spare shirt that had been thrown on the floor of the Impala and applied pressure to the worst of wounds, hoping to at least slow the red liquid draining from Cas at an alarming rate.

The angel moaned in pain, his head thrashing from side to side as he murmured something in enochian Sam couldn't understand. He gripped Cas' wrist, trying to sooth him with what little comfort he could provide.

"Shh, it's okay, I got you." Sam whispered calmly, yet inside he was a mess. Not only did he face the possibility of losing Dean but on top of it all he might lose Cas too. He wasn't sure his heart could handle losing them both again. And what if Dean woke up? He hadn't hit him that hard. Cas responded to the touch by tensing and weakly trying to fight Sam off, though he soon went limp again and Sam couldn't decide which was worse.

As much as Sam abhorred leaving Cas alone and still bleeding he knew he had to get Dean into the trunk of the Impala where the devil's trap would hold him until they made it back to the bunker. Draping a blanket over Cas to keep him warm, Sam made his way back into the dark warehouse, prepared to fight Dean again if need be, whatever it took to get his brother back where he belonged – with Sam.

By some miracle Dean hadn't moved and still lay motionless by the knocked over crates. Holy water ready just in case, Sam knelt next to Dean's still form and - gathering all his strength - heaved his brother off the floor with his good arm.

"Holy shit!" he gasped, struggling to support the dead weight. Dean weighed more than Cas by enough to make Sam doubt his abilities. "You need to lay off the pies." He grunted, managing to get Dean's left arm around his neck. Okay, he could totally do this.

Sam smiled sadly when he looked at his brother's peaceful face, all the anger had left his features and Sam could almost pretend Dean wasn't a monster bent on destroying everything he'd once held dear.

Out of pure necessity, Sam manhandled Dean towards the car with much less care then he'd used with Cas, though he highly doubted it mattered. He noted with a shiver of unease that all the cuts and scratches Dean had gotten during their earlier fight had already completely healed.

The damn Impala seemed so far away but finally Sam found himself standing in front of the car's trunk, fumbling with the keys. Out of breath and shaking slightly as the adrenaline left his body, he no choice but dump Dean ungracefully on the ground while he struggled to get the keys in that annoyingly small hole. He winced when Dean's head hit gravel hard but pushed it to the back of his racing mind.

He hadn't even been sure he'd be able to accomplish it but Sam let out a relieved sigh as he looked down at his brother, curled in an unconscious heap on the floor of the trunk, seemingly none worse for wear.

"I'm sorry, Dean." With grim determination written all over his face, Sam slammed the door closed, ignoring the painful constricting in his chest.

Retrieving the first aid kit from under the front seat, Sam set about the task of stitching up the worst of Cas' injuries, which proved pretty difficult because the angel kept squirming around and damn near _whimpering_ with each touch, no matter how gentle. Sam cursed the darkness and the fact that he could only really use his left hand, which wasn't ideal.

"I'm so sorry…" Sam muttered, feeling guilt filling the void in his heart. It had been his fault Cas had been at that bar, he'd been the one to drag the angel into the mess even knowing he wasn't at full strength. Even the knowledge that Cas wouldn't have let Sam refuse his help did little to ease the burden on his being. Sam shouldn't have let Dean out of his sight in the bunker in the first place, then none of this would have happened.

Every time Sam started a new stitch Cas groaned, his arms jerking out to grab a hold of whatever he could get in his grip. Mostly he just clawed uselessly at the worn leather of the seat underneath them; his agonized cries jarring in the otherwise silent night air.

"Don't…don't…" Cas kept repeating in between broken sobs. Sam wondered how unconscious Cas really was, he seemed to be stuck in his own personal nightmare heightened by the physical pain.

"Stop moving, Cas." Sam pleaded, too which he unsurprisingly got no response. He pulled Cas' head into his lap in an attempt to hold him still. Thankfully, most of the bleeding had slowed to a sluggish trickle. But there was still thick red blood all over the back seats, Sam, and everything else Sam had touched in the process. He was fairly certain if Cas had been a human he'd be dead already.

At length Sam looked at his work and had to concede he'd done the best he could with the limited resources he had at his disposal. Cas still looked white as a ghost and hadn't stop gasping in raspy breaths, but at least he was still breathing right?

"Stay with me, okay?" Sam gently caressed Cas' dark hair and shoved his jacket under the angel's head before draping the blanket back over him and jumping in the driver's seat of the Impala.

The car's engine roared to life as Sam turned the keys in the ignition. The radio instantly started blaring a stupid classic rock song and Sam hit it off as he pressed his foot to the petal and peeled out of the parking lot.

Sam glanced in the rearview mirror, keeping tabs on Cas' while he tried to wrap his brain around the fact that he had an unconscious angel in the back seat and a brother-turned-demon in the trunk. Some days sucked.

Dean awoke sometime during the drive back to the bunker and quickly made it his life's mission to come up with as many insults as possible. He clearly didn't take kindly to his little brother spoiling his fun. Cas, on the other hand, didn't so much as stir the entire trip, and if it hadn't been for the slight rise and fall of his chest as he breathed Sam would have feared the worst.

"What are you going to do, Sammy? Try and cure me?" Dean's voice was unnervingly loud over the endlessly humming of tires on asphalt. "Even if you manage to do that, which I doubt you can, I still don't want anything to do with either of you." He pounded against the metal of the trunk.

Sam said nothing, refusing to answer, and only forced the car to go faster. The sooner they got this over with the better.

Dean laughed evilly. "As much as I hate you for all the years I wasted being your babysitter, mothering your stupid ass and even selling my soul so _you_ could go dark side, I still hate Cas more, and once I get free I'm going to kill him slowly and make you watch. Then I'll take care of you."

Sam frowned, gritting his teeth as a scowl formed on his face. Dean didn't mean any of it, once he'd been cured he'd stop acting crazy… hopefully.

This went on for a while but finally Dean seemed to grow tired of talking without getting a response and after a few moments of silence Sam found himself releasing air he hadn't realized he'd been holding in.

Not nearly soon enough the bunker appeared seemingly out of nowhere ahead of them and Sam decided to park the Impala inside the garage because he'd have to leave Dean in the trunk until he'd had a chance to tend to Cas better and fabricate a reasonable plan of attack.

"This little trap won't hold me forever, ya know."

"I'm going to fix this, Dean." Sam narrowed his eyes in determination but felt a flicker of doubt hearing the blatant assurance in Dean's voice.

"That's adorable, Sammy. When have you ever managed to do anything but make matters worse?"

Sam ignored the jab and instead opened the back door to check on Cas. The angel hadn't moved and Sam could see red stains in the blanket where blood had soaked through.

Now came the next seemingly impossible task of getting Cas down the long flight of stairs leading to the bunker's main floor. Sam thought he'd spotted a stretcher in the supply room a few months back when they'd been going through the all Men of Letters boxes. It would be a bumpy ride down but definitely beat trying to carry Cas again.

It took Sam close to half an hour to get Cas to one of the spare bedrooms in the bunker and actually on the bed. However he managed it, and without doing too much damage in the process.

Out of breath and panting hard, Sam took a moment to collect his thoughts as he stared numbly at the angel's heaving chest. Blood oozed sluggishly from a few of the cuts that were too small to stitch and when he placed his finger against Cas' neck Sam found the pulse weak.

Cursing, Sam hauled himself to his feet and gathered some clean towels and a bowl of warm water. He shoved the items on the nightstand to the floor and set about the task of washing the blood and dirt from Cas' body. This time he didn't thrash to get away from the touch, didn't even whimper and that worried Sam.

"Don't give up on me, Cas." Sam pleaded. He'd grown quite fond of the angel over the years and he was like a brother to him. And, more selfishly, Sam needed the support. Loosing Dean hadn't gotten any easier, no matter how many times he went through it, and having Cas by his side made it a little more bearable.

Sam carefully wrapped bandages around Cas' torso, tight enough to apply pressure but not so tight that he wouldn't be able to breathe. He covered the angel with the sheets on the bed and headed for the door. With a heavy heart he paused for a moment, glancing back, Sam rubbed a hand down his face.

"I'll take care of you." He promised the empty air, silent except for Cas' labored breathing. "I'll take care of both of you."

Sam grabbed a crowbar on his way back up the stairs, jaw set firmly in grim determination. He had to do this, couldn't take the chance… life sucked so bad.

Silence filled the garage air and Sam gripped the metal tightly in his quivering hands. Wishing he was anywhere but here, Sam opened the trunk of the Impala; and wacked Dean over the head as hard as he could.

Dean slumped limply to the floor of the trunk with a surprised grunt. Sam released a shaky breath as he let the crowbar slip guiltily from his hand. He really wanted to hug the shit out of his brother and forget about all this, he still could barely wrap his head around the fact that his _brother_ had turned into a demon.

"What happened to you and me against the world?" Sam asked sadly, he brushed the back of his hand over Dean's warm cheek. He told himself Dean would be fine, if only he could convince himself that _he'd_ be fine.

Sam hauled Dean down the stairs the same way he'd done with Cas. But he didn't take him to his room. Sam took Dean to their dungeon and tied him securely to the chair, just like they'd done with Crowley not but a few months back. Dean's head lolled to the side and Sam could see blood oozing down the right side of his face, making the younger Winchester feel even more upset, but he pushed his emotions down deep, like he always did.

Swallowing hard, Sam stepped back and splashed holy water in Dean's face.

With an angry growl, Dean's eyes snapped open, and they were black, horrible, soulless demon black. He glared at Sam with contempt, his narrowed eyes watching as Sam walked over to the metal table with a bunch of torture tools and needles laid out on it.

"Whatcha gonna do, Sammy?" he taunted. "Shoot me up with a bunch of your blood and make me all better?"

"Dean." Sam whispered softly, hoping to calm his brother down. "I'm going to fix you."

Dean snorted, rolling his eyes. "I don't need fixing!" he growled. "Stay the hell away from me."

"What about our family?" Sam asked, rolling the sleeve to his shirt up and draining out a syringe full of blood. He hoped his blood still worked, he couldn't risk leaving Cas alone for long enough to go get more. "You and me, hunting things, saving people? That's all you used to care about."

"Wow, old me sounds boring." Dean jerked his arms against the restraints, rolling his head back in a cruel laugh. "You better hope I don't get loose before your little trick works."

Sighing, Sam walked over and injected Dean's arm with the blood, to which the older Winchester only smirked, making Sam shiver with unease.

"You don't look too good, you sure you can handle doing this?"

Sam pursed his lips, meeting Dean's menacing gaze. "Whatever it takes to get you back."

The sound of Dean mimicking his words in an overly whiny voice followed his retreating back as Sam headed towards the spare bedroom to check on Cas. The angel still breathed, still had a pulse, but little else positive could be said about his condition. Sam wondered if he might not get better because he was already dying? Hadn't he said something about running out of borrowed grace?

He returned to the basement every hour and injected Dean with more blood, but after the sixth time he started to worry. Had he forgotten something? Shouldn't there be a noticeable difference now? Because Dean seemed every bit as demon as before, and he was getting really tired of the insults…

* * *

"Cas?" a hesitant voice broke through the fog of his brain.

Castiel tried to turn his head away from the annoying sound, wishing he hadn't as sudden pain throbbed behind his closed eyes. Why was it so bright in here? Even shut it seemed like the sun was shining straight into his eyes like a laser. He couldn't remember what had happened or where he was. Panic filled him for a moment and he clutched at the blankets covering him… blankets? He didn't remember going to bed. Sleeping had never been a good idea and wouldn't start being one now. Sleep made one vulnerable to the monsters that filled the world.

"Cas!" this time with more urgency.

This person really needed to shut up before he killed them! Castiel waved his hand weakly in the air surrounding him, willing all disturbances to leave him be in peace and darkness.

"Cas, it's not working." He finally recognized Sam's voice and relaxed a bit, he must be at the bunker, with Sam… and Dean. He shuddered, mental images of Dean torturing him entering his mind. And those horrible black, soulless eyes staring at him with evil intent. His heart felt heavy, something he'd felt a few times during his time as a human – emotional pain. And did he ever feel like he couldn't breathe! Wait… not working?

"What's… not working?" Castiel finally managed to croak, cringing at the roughness of his own voice. He swallowed, trying to ease the raspy sound coming from his throat but the action hurt terribly and he quickly decided against doing it again.

He felt a hand on his arm and couldn't control the involuntary jerk of his muscles, even though he knew the hand belonged to Sam and wasn't a threat.

"Are you awake?" Sam questioned, uncertainty dripping off every word.

"Yes." Castiel grumbled thickly, his tongue so dry he could barely speak. _I am now anyway._ He tried opening his eyes the tiniest amount and immediately squeezed them shut again as blinding light burned against his dry eyes. Why did the whole room literally seem to be made of horribly bright, white light? "Turn off… light."

He heard a shuffling sound and then the unbearable light disappeared, making him sigh in relief, thinking maybe he could try and open his eyes once more. This time his gaze was met with blessed darkness, expect for a very faint light streaming in from a bulb down the hall through the open door of the small, empty room – well, empty save for the bed he lay in and a chair Sam had pulled up to sit next to him. Luckily he still had great night vision and had no trouble seeing all he needed to.

"Is that better?" Sam returned and sunk heavily into the chair with a weary sigh. His face look worn and there were dark shadows under his hazel eyes. The wrinkled shirt hanging from his slumping shoulders appeared to be at least couple days old and his hair was a neglected mess.

"How, how long has it been?" Castiel asked worriedly, blinking his sore eyes in an attempt to get a better look at the younger Winchester. "Have you slept?"

"Two days." Sam replied, shaking his head slightly.

"Two days?" Castiel echoed, trying to sit up, but Sam's firm hand on his shoulder halted the movement.

"You need to take it easy." Sam averted his gaze, looking slightly uncomfortable. "You've been through a lot."

Letting his head fall back against the pillows, Castiel groaned, slowly becoming aware that he hurt almost everywhere. He knew Sam wasn't just talking about the physical applications of what had happened in the warehouse but was thankful when he didn't try to press the matter. Castiel needed more time before he'd want to discuss that with anyone, if he ever did.

"I feel terrible..." Castiel admitted, smiling slightly to try and make light of the matter but he ended up coughing so hard Sam gripped his hand with an alarmed look on his face.

"Here." Sam produced a cup filled with water once Castiel managed to catch his breath. "Drink this."

"Thank you." Castiel gratefully took the offered glass, wincing as the movement pulled the healing lacerations on his stomach and chest. He reached down with his free hand to touch the source of the discomfort but his fingers were met with rough fabric. A quick glance told him his entire middle had been wrapped with tight bandages. That explained the suffocating pressure in his chest.

Sam watched him intently, as if trying to assess his current state.

"I'm okay, Sam." Castiel handed the glass back to the younger Winchester, fearing if he tried to set in on the nightstand next to him his shaking hands would drop it.

"Yeah, okay." Sam blushed, again averting his gaze. "It's just, I thought I'd lost you there for a while, and Dean…" he trailed off, giving Castiel what could only be a pleading look. "It's not working, Cas." Sam's voice broke on the last bit and the angel thought he caught a glimpse of a tear trickling down the hunter's cheek.

Extending a hand to rest on Sam's shoulder, wishing he could offer more comfort, Castiel prompted. "What's not working, Sam?"

When Sam looked up, Castiel could plainly see he had tears in his eyes. "The ritual, for curing a demon, it's not working. I went through the whole thing, just like I did with Crowley, I followed it exactly, and it didn't work. Dean's still a demon."

"Are you sure?" Castiel asked in disbelief, sucking in a breath as he let the news settle. How could the ritual not have worked on Dean if it had affected the very King of Hell himself?

"Is Dean… is that really Dean?" Sam asked, a trace of hope making its way into his tone. Castiel nodded, this time it was he who looked away, not wanting to see the pain in Sam's eyes.

"I'm sorry, Sam." He whispered sincerely. He couldn't help feeling guilty; it was his fault Metatron had gone all terminator.

"How?" Sam stood up and paced the room. "How did he just become a demon in a few weeks? Doesn't it normally take a lot longer?"

"Generally, yes." Castiel agreed, feeling his eyelids drooping already with fatigue, damn this ridiculous need to sleep!

"Well, what do I do?" Sam stopped his pacing long enough to run both hands through his shaggy hair. "Damn it, Cas! What do I do?"

"I don't know." Castiel admitted. "But we'll figure something out." He added quickly, seeing Sam's panic rise.

"I… I can't lose him again." Sam wiped the liquid off his cheeks with the back of his hand.

Castiel held his hand out and Sam looked at him in confusion. "Help me up." The angel urged. "Take me to Dean and we'll figure this out."

"You sure? I mean, you need…" Sam gestured vaguely at Castiel, looking like he didn't much like the idea. Well tough! "…clothes at least."

Really? How could Sam be concerned with clothes at a time like this? Humans! Castiel shrugged, figuring it would be better for all involved to just go along with it. "Well, get me some clothes then."

Nodding, Sam shuffled off, soon returning with what looked like some of Dean's spare clothes. That blue and white flannel definitely looked like Dean's and the jeans were too short to be Sam's.

"Here." Sam dropped the items on the bed and spun in his heels while muttering a quick. "I'll just be out in the hall if you… when you're done call me."

Clothes were still something Castiel found annoying to deal with. How did people have time to do anything with the need to eat, change clothes and sleep constantly?

As soon as Sam left Castiel struggled to a sitting position, gritting his teeth against the pain. The room spun around him and he had to close his eyes to fight back the urge to puke. He suddenly became grateful that Sam wasn't here, he didn't want the younger Winchester to know just how hurt and weak he still was. Putting clothes on would be harder than he'd previously thought and what had been a mere annoyance might turn out to be a real trial.

With a sad sigh, Castiel twitched his shoulders, his wing was still bothering him, but he lacked the grace to healed it and felt too self-conscious to allow Sam to care for him. Any pride he'd once possessed had long since been stripped from his being, but his fear still clung fast, and fear always prevented people from doing what needed to be done.

_I'll be fine, it's not that bad._ He told himself firmly, turning his attention to the task at hand.

By being super careful and biting his bottom lip so hard he almost broke the skin, Castiel managed to dress himself without making noise. But by the time he finally called Sam back in he was shaking and covered in sweat.

"You don't have to do this." Sam did nothing to hide his concern as he helped Castiel stand up. "I mean, we can wait until you feel better."

"No." the angel leaned heavily on Sam but his voice remained steady, concealing his inner turmoil. "We have to save Dean."

 


	3. Angel's Blood

"What happened, Dean?" Castiel asked the hunter-turned-demon for the third time. He narrowed his blue eyes, trying to look intimidating, but he highly doubted the tactic was working. Normally people weren't afraid of someone who could barely stand on their own. _Or angels with no powers…_ he thought bitterly.

"I told you already, you soulless dick, I'm not telling you anything. And you can't make me." Dean leaned against the back of the chair with a smug expression plastered on his very evil looking face. Castiel had never seen Dean so full of hatred and contempt before and the sight made his stomach churn with unease and something else… he glanced quickly at Sam who stood a few feet to his left, silently pleading for help.

The younger Winchester only shrugged in defeat, obviously he'd already tried everything he could think of to get some answers out of his brother, but Dean wasn't cooperating.

"Well, if you think we're so useless, what harm could telling us what the hell is going on possibly cause?" the angel let a little bit of annoyance creep into his normally flat voice, this was getting ridiculous, they'd been trying to get something useful out of Dean for nearly a half hour and he wouldn't talk.

"I'm not falling for your crap, I told both of you idiots, I like being a demon, I like not caring, and I like not having to worry about _you_." Dean licked his lips slowly, his eyes wandering with scrutiny up and down Castiel's body, like a dog sizing up its prey.

Shifting uncomfortably, Castiel looked away for a moment. He might always be messed up from what Dean had done to him but he still wanted to help his friend get better. No matter what.

"What's wrong, angel? Did I hurt your feelings?" mocked Dean, his mouth pouting in a fake frown.

Emotions that Castiel couldn't explain filled his chest. They hurt. And made his face heat up like someone was holding a match too close. He struggled inwardly with these new found feelings until he found something he recognized, something he could cling to that made sense.

Breathing out slowly, Castiel let his anger drowned out all other emotions, his exhaustion, his pain, the way looking at Dean made him want to strangle him and kiss him at the same time… everything.

"No." he growled, taking a step towards Dean, who smiled slightly and strained his arms against the ropes holding him.

"Cas…" Sam moved to put a hand on the angel's shoulder but Castiel shrugged him off.

"Look." Castiel lunged forward, gripping both Dean's arms tightly in his hands and leaning down until their faces were mere inches from each other. Blue eyes boring into green in one of the most intense staring contests they'd ever had. "We can do this the hard way, or you can just tell me. Either way, I will get what I need out of you." He let his voice drop even lower in warning, his jaw set firmly.

Dean's eyebrows raised in questioning. "Oh really? What are you going to do? Smite me?"

"If I need to." This time it was Castiel who grinned. Standing back, he let his remaining grace flow through him. The air in the little room started to hum softly and the single light overhead flickered. Suddenly this wasn't about helping Dean; no, this was personal. How dare this human think he could treat him with such disrespect and get away with it? After all Castiel had done and sacrificed for them, how could he even think that…

"Take it easy, Cas." Sam sounded worried and Castiel felt a hand on his shoulder.

"Get off me!" the angel snapped, jerking his wrist and pushing Sam back a few feet.

The blub hanging from the ceiling exploded and blinding white light materialized out of nowhere around Castiel, shadowing his outstretched wings against the far wall. The power felt weak, but he didn't care, he focused on the anger, and the need to destroy the source of his suffering… Dean.

"Don't hurt yourself, kitten." In spite of his pretentious words, Castiel detected a hint of uncertainly in the older Winchester's voice. He tilted his head slightly, not even sure he could hurt Dean at all, let alone kill him. He loved Dean, yet he hated him at the same time.

"What did you call me?" Castiel demanded, the nickname felt familiar, though he couldn't pinpoint it. His brain wouldn't work past the rage and sorrow flooding his senses like poison. The edges of his vision turned red and Castiel started breathing harder.

"Whatever I want." Dean replied, though his eyes darted nervously around the room.

"I'm still an angel, _Dean_." Castiel growled the name like it physically hurt to say out loud. "And you should show me some respect." Stretching out his hand palm first, fully intent on killing this demon scum in front of him, Castiel closed his eyes, even as they burned with hot tears.

"Castiel! Stop!" Sam suddenly shouted, and Castiel faltered, his eyes flickering open as he glanced quickly at the younger Winchester.

Sam looked confused, and maybe a little scared. This wasn't right, he didn't want to hurt Sam. Castiel lowered his hand slightly, his vision becoming a little less clouded with rage.

"Please." Sam whispered, his soft, burden filled eyes pleading.

Exhaling harshly, Castiel blinked and lowered his hand, releasing the grip on all his rage with the simple gesture; unfortunately all his energy seemed to leave with it. The angel collapsed to his knees with a half hearted grunt.

Just a quickly Sam was kneeling next to him, gripping his shoulders, hauling him up off the floor like he was little more than a ragdoll.

"Shit, Cas. Are you okay?" asked Sam worriedly and Castiel snorted bitterly. Here he'd nearly killed his brother and Sam was concerned about his wellbeing? He didn't deserve anyone's sympathies or even the simple care given a good friend. Numbly Castiel nodded, staring at Sam with blue eyes that had long lost their spark. Breathing, even living, seemed too much effort; he'd lost everything, his home, his grace, and now Dean.

"Come on." Sam wrapped Castiel's limp arm around his broad shoulders and proceeded to walk him towards the door. Despite Sam being as gentle as he could the movement still hurt and Castiel couldn't be bothered to bite back the little gasps of pain that made it past his chapped lips.

Dean's satisfied snickers made him want to vomit. He couldn't stop wondering if the real Dean had meant any of those things he'd said. Chancing a glance over his shoulder, Castiel caught sight of Dean's evil smirk, his green eyes cold, void of any empathy; dead – exactly how he felt.

\------

"Sam, I'm so sorry, I don't what came over me." Castiel apologized for probably the fifth time since they'd headed upstairs. They were sitting in the main room trying to figure out what to do next. But the angel couldn't seem to rid himself of the remorse and guilt he felt over his previous outburst. He gripped the coffee mug in his hands tighter, as if it would somehow make the situation better.

Sighing, Sam rubbed a hand down his face and shook his head at the angel sitting across the table from him. "It's not your fault, Cas. I shouldn't have taken you down there. You weren't ready to deal with that."

"I'm fine." Castiel insisted stiffly, though honestly he felt anything but fine. His head wouldn't stop pounding, he was freezing and couldn't stop coughing, the warm liquid he'd been drinking only helped cover it. And most importantly, Castiel was heartbroken, there seemed no reason to keep fighting. He hated to admit it; but he loved Dean, and if they couldn't fix him Castiel couldn't bear the thought of having to live forever with Dean as his sworn enemy – a demon.

"No, you're not fine." Sam's voice brought him back to the present and Castiel was about to open his mouth to argue when the hunter continued with an exasperated sigh. "And neither am I."

The angel's mouth snapped shut and he frowned in confusion, not sure he'd heard correctly; since when did Winchesters admit when they weren't handling things?

"We can lie to ourselves, and even each other, but it doesn't change the fact, so what's the point? I'm not going to be okay until Dean is Dean again." Sam looked at Castiel with a mixture of hope and guilt. "And I know it's a lot to ask, but I don't think I can do it without your help."

Castiel pulled the blanket Sam had given him earlier tighter around his body and smiled sadly. "Well," he sighed heavily, "you saw what my 'help' looks like, pretty sure you could do just fine without that."

"You have to stop beating yourself up, Cas." Sam averted his gaze, a slight blush coloring his cheeks. "Look, I don't really know what's been going on between you and my brother, you know, these past few months… or whatever. But I know you two are close, so I'm sure what he did messed with your head, demon or not, it was still Dean. It's just going to take you a bit to get over it."

Shifting uncomfortably, Castiel shrugged, hoping Sam would drop this super awkward subject and never mention it again. It wasn't that he didn't trust Sam, he was pretty sure the younger Winchester would be supportive of any relationship between him and Dean, but the amount of humiliation he now felt regarding the entire thing made him completely unwilling to let _anyone_ know he'd ever wanted to be – let alone had actually been – intimate with Dean.

Apparently Sam felt weird mentioning it too, because he cleared his throat and stood up with an audible huff. "So what do you say we get human Dean back, and then you can beat the living shit out him."

Castiel nodded slowly, just as a sudden realization hit him square in the face. "And I think I know where to start."

"You do?"

Castiel looked up at Sam, a little bit of the life returning to his features. "Dean called me a kitten." He stated, scanning the table in front of him for a phone.

"So?" Sam shook his head in confusion, obviously not following.

"Well." Castiel paused his search to focus his attention on standing up, which proved more painful and took a lot longer than he would have liked. He grabbed in the edge of the table to steady himself just as Sam came around and placed a hand on his shoulder for support.

"The only person who's ever called me that was Crowley. And no one else was there, so I would conclude that either, Dean being a demon somehow gave him a whole new outlook on nicknames, or he's been hanging out with Crowley." Castiel smiled triumphantly at Sam, maybe he wasn't completely useless after all.

"That's something." Sam agreed, pulling his phone from his pocket and dialing the King of Hell's number.

Sam glanced nervously at Cas and back to his phone as it rang loudly in his ear. _Come on, pick up you dick!_

"Moose!" exclaimed the familiar, overly thick accented voice at the other end. "So nice of you to call, to what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Listen, Crowley." Sam snapped shortly, in no mood for the demon's bullshit. "We know you and Dean have been, hanging out. So what did you do to him?"

"What? Not even a hello first?"

"Crowley." Sam warned, once again eyeing Cas who had slumped back into the chair and appeared only half conscious. He clutched the phone in his fist, they were running out of time in more ways than one. "You better answer my questions straight, got it?"

"Or what?" Crowley taunted.

"I have your number, and I will find you." Sam said with as much force as he could muster.

Crowely sighed, sounding bored. "We've mostly been bromancing our way across the countryside, banging chicks, drinking beer, sealing soul deals every now and then."

"What?" Sam wiggled his nose in disgust as he sat down by Cas and put the phone on speaker so the angel could hear the conversation. "That's not what I'm talking about, and you know it."

"Oh! Of course. You mean why is he a demon? Perks of the Mark, I suppose. Now if you'll excuse me, I have more important things to attend to."

"Wait. So you didn't do this?" Sam wasn't convinced, he shared a glance with Cas, both shaking their heads slightly in agreement; that Crowley was a total dick.

"Crowley. We know you know what happened." Cas looked like he was about to pass out, but he somehow managed to keep the exhaustion out of his voice.

"You're right, angel, I do." Crowley's smirk could practically be heard through the phone. "See, here's how it works. Dean has the Mark of Cain. Following so far?" he paused and Sam rolled his eyes, fighting the urge to hunt the stupid demon down and demand he give them all the information right now or it'd be hell to pay… or something like that.

"When someone with the Mark dies, they become a demon, also known as a Knight of Hell. It's all part of the curse. And it can't be cured by your little purified human blood trick, which I'm guessing you already found out and that's why you called, right?"

Sam felt his heart sink with dread and one look at Cas told him the angel felt no better about this news. This couldn't be happening! This had to be one of Crowley's lies to get in his head.

"You're lying." Sam said evenly, hiding the fear constricting his chest like a torture device.

"So Dean is no longer a demon?"

Biting his lip, Sam tried to conjure up a good response that would somehow get Crowley tell them what they needed without him getting conformation either way, but he couldn't think of anything. It didn't help that he'd barely slept or ate for three days straight.

"How do we cure it then, you assjerk?" Cas demanded, staring at the phone like a drunk man trying to focus on the spinning room.

"Who taught you to swear?" Crowley snapped in annoyance and Sam couldn't help the small smile that tugged at the corners of his mouth. Cas was horrible at insults, but he tried, the poor guy. And when Cas turned his confused gaze to him, Sam had to bit the inside of his mouth to keep a straight face.

"Just tell us, Crowley." Sam rubbed his temple to ease the headache he felt coming on. Even with his pressing concern for Dean ever present in his mind, dealing with Crowley was enough to make him want to kill someone.

"Simply put, there is no cure. Even if you somehow manage to bring him back, it will only be temporary; the next time he dies he'll become a demon again." Crowley chuckled. "And if I'm guessing correctly having Dean with the Mark, demon or not, it a little more than you and darling little Castiel can handle."

"Crowley…" Cas growled.

"Sorry, no cure, mean's no cure." The demon said with fake remorse. "Dean is your problem now, have fun."

There was a slight click as the line went dead and Sam slammed his fist angrily against the table. Now they were back to square one; worse actually, now there was the possibly that Crowley had been telling the truth about Dean being a Knight of Hell and maybe there really was no curing that.

"Crowley lies, Sam." Cas said wearily as if reading his thoughts.

"But what if he's not?"

"I don't know…" Cas appeared to pale even more, like he couldn't handle even thinking such things. Sam scrunched his eyebrows together. He knew something was going on between those two, but he had a feeling Cas wouldn't be enlightening him on the subject any time soon. "But I bet you if there is a way the Men of Letters wrote about it and it's in here somewhere."

A tiny spark of hope flared in Sam's chest and he nodded. _Please be right, Cas._ He prayed silently to himself _. Please be right._

\-----

It hurt. Everything hurt. Why was everything so intense? Castiel wasn't used to being in pain for long periods of time and it seemed the more he tried to ignore it and focus on the book in front of him the worse it got. Normally any discomfort he felt in his vessel was muffled, a mere annoyance he could dismiss without much trouble.

But now that he didn't have his own grace anymore he was stuck with this body and all the perks of being a real angel didn't apply to mostly used up stolen grace, all it did was keep him alive.

They'd gone to the library after the discouraging call with Crowley, digging up anything they had on Knights of Hell and curing demons. Castiel had taken on the task of reading up all they had about the Knights of Hells. Which wasn't much. Apparently before Abaddon had come and murdered everyone no one had actually seen a Knight of Hell, so most of the lore was just speculation. In fact, he hadn't seen one thing in this book that he didn't already know.

Castiel set the book on the table in front of him, sighing in discomfort as he did. He chanced a quick glance at Sam, who sat just to his left with a stack of books piled in front of him. The hunter appeared totally engrossed in the book he held in his hands and didn't notice the angel staring at him.

Crossing his arms to use as a pillow, Castiel let his head sag, sleeping sounded like an amazing idea right now. Leaning forward put pressure on his wounds and he moaned slightly against the pain, biting his bottom lip to keep from making more noise. The agony in his chest every time he breathed seemed to drain all his remaining energy. Castiel fidgeted in his chair until he found a position that was bearable and closed his eyes, willing himself to focus on anything except the pain and all their problems.

He'd hardly had his eyes shut for five minutes when he heard Sam calling his name through the fog of fatigue and pain wrapped around his mind. He wanted to be mad at Sam for disturbing him, but how could he be? The younger Winchester had been nothing but kind to him, even when he didn't deserve it.

"Hmm?" Castiel grunted, not even bothering to try and move, hiding his misery was getting to be too much work.

"Cas. Did you hear me?" Sam asked.

"No." Castiel mumbled, lifting his head enough to look into the young man's concerned gaze. A world of doubt and grief reflected in his hazel eyes, making Castiel feel all the more a failure for being a useless burden.

"Do you need a break? You look horrible." Sam said, gesturing to the stack of unread books next to him. Oh how Castiel wanted to lie his way out, but he couldn't even manage that. "I'll keep looking through these and let you know if I find anything, you have to take care of yourself."

"I… It just…" Castiel averted his eyes to the table, feeling his cheeks flush with shame as he whispered the last word, "hurts."

"Oh. Oh shit! Cas." The angel winced at the grating sound the chair made as Sam pushed it back and stood up. "I'm sorry man, I totally didn't think… why didn't you say something? Just, just stay here. I'll get you some ibuprofen."

Castiel watched Sam leave the room, now slightly intrigued by this 'ibuprofen' Sam had been talking about. He didn't have to wait long, the hunter soon returned with a glass of water and two small orange pills in his hand.

"Here." he placed everything in front of Castiel. "Take these, they should help with the pain."

It took a good ten minutes but the sharp, stabbing pain finally lessened to a more tolerable dull ache and Castiel found he could actually focus on what he was reading.

"Thank you, Sam." Castiel said sincerely.

"Of course, Cas." Sam replied without looking up from the book he had titled Angel's Blood. Castiel felt a little uneasy and averted his gaze; they had a whole book dedicated to his kind's blood? How much could one possibly say about it anyway? And why was Sam even reading it? Didn't seem to have anything to do with what they were after. Castiel thought about asking but couldn't quite find the gumption.

Another ten minutes and Castiel's eyes were drifting shut of their own accord and he was about to take Sam up on his offer when the younger Winchester suddenly jumped out of his chair with such enthusiasm that Castiel couldn't help but share some of it.

"Look, Cas! I think I found something!" Sam was standing next to him in two huge footsteps and shoving aside the other things in front of Castiel to make room to set his book. "See?" he jabbed his fingers at the middle of the left page.

Castiel narrowed his eyes and glanced at the old document style writing before him. After skimming through he turned to Sam with a look of shock on his face. "Do you think this will work?"

"I don't know, but we have to try." Sam grabbed his jacket off the back of his chair and headed for the door. "You stay here and rest, Cas. I'll call you and keep you updated." He hesitated for a moment before adding. "And stay away from, Dean."

"No, Sam." Castiel said firmly, pulling himself out of the chair, only swaying a little before he steadied himself with a hand pressed to the table. Sam paused and spun around to face him.

"Most of the other angels already returned to heaven, who knows how long it would take you to track one down. And even if you can, why waste the time? Why take the risk? We have what we need right here." Castiel took a deep breath and stood as straight as he could, fixing Sam with his intense, unblinking gaze while he moved closer until they were only a couple feet apart. Sam licked his lips nervously, trying to avoid eye contact.

"We have what we need right here." he repeated calmly. "And I'll give it to you without a fight."

"Cas, no." Sam shook his head. "If I can't find another angel we'll just find another way, there's always another way."

"Sam…"

The look for utter despair in Sam's eyes made Castiel's heart ache and only solidified his decision. No matter what it cost, he had to do his part to insure Sam and Dean were reunited as family again.

"I said no." Sam waved a hand at him with irritation. "Come on, Cas. You're not strong enough, and it might not even work with your blood. Are you even a real angel anymore?"

Castiel tensed a bit, the words hurt; but he couldn't really blame Sam for questioning him, he hadn't exactly been the picture of angelic magnificence lately. Is he still a real angel? He doesn't even know anymore.

"Cas, I'm sorry-"

"I don't know." Castiel cut him off with a sigh. "I think I stopped being a 'real' angel a long time ago. But I'm the only angel you got."

Sam doesn't look convinced. "This is could kill you."

Castiel snorted bitterly, the mere notion that even mattered strangely humorous. "I don't see why that matters." he saw concern flicker across Sam's face and quickly added. "I'm dying anyway, Sam. And if I can help you get your brother back, then my death might as well serve some purpose."

"Cas…" Sam's face softened, like somehow he finally understood what was going through the angel's guilt ridden mind. "I can't ask that of you…"

"You're not." Castiel assured him, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. "I'm offering."

"I don't like this." Sam told him.

"I'm not asking you to."

Sam nodded. "Okay." he agreed quietly. "Okay."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who's actually stuck with this story in spite of the fact I haven't updated in almost three months. 
> 
> I'll try to do better this time, anyway; hope you enjoyed it.


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